


Dirty Secrets

by WishingIHadSocks



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Fluff, Grantaire has the flu, M/M, Secrets, Smoking, and a twist, theres babysitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:05:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5788051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingIHadSocks/pseuds/WishingIHadSocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has the flu and thanks to Joly, Enjolras is on babysitting duty. But Grantaire is in for a surprise when Enjolras lets a secret slip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is just a weird little idea I couldn't get out of my head so here I wrote it! Sorry that this is 75% dialogue but I think in conversations. Enjoy.

Grantaire was sick. The kind of sick where Joly freaked out and made someone babysit him at all times. Which was how he ended up sat, huddled in a comforter, at the other end of the sofa to Enjolras.   
It was quiet and it was tense. Grantaire tried not to watch the boy furiously type his way through a language essay but it was ridiculously hard for Grantaire not to watch the boy do anything.  
“You’re staring.” Enjolras said, not looking up from the notes balanced on the sofa’s arm. Grantaire’s head snapped away from the cushion it was pressed into.   
“Sorry, I’m not usually this close to productivity. It’s mesmerising.”   
“You know, if you didn’t procrastinate so much you wouldn’t find me half as mesmerising as you do.” Enjolras smirked and Grantaire’s face reddened as he shifted his blanket to tighten the cocoon he’d wrapped himself into.   
“I said I was admiring productivity, not you.”  
It went silent again, the furious tapping of keys filled the room, Enjolras being set against TV whilst he was trying to work and Grantaire being far too ill to read successfully.   
“You know,” Grantaire started, Enjolras hummed, “All this work is stressing me out I think I’m going for a fag.” He stood up, wobbled and took a deep breath before waddling to find the packet he’d left in his coat pocket.  
“You are far too sick to go for a smoke.” Enjolras had shut his laptop and stood up from where he’d been sat. “Joly will kill me if I let you do this.”  
“You’re still going to let me do this though.” Grantaire called from where he was sat on the coffee table they kept the keys on by the door, unable to stand up successfully for longer than five minutes.  
“You can’t stand up long enough to go outside!” Enjolras argued  
“I’ll take a chair.”  
“You’ll get cold.”  
“I’ll take a blanket.”  
“You can’t carry all of that back and forth.” Enjolras had his arms crossed and leant across the door frame, a nonchalant stance he’d picked up from Combeferre when trying to logic people out of bad life choices.  
“That’s why you’re going to carry the chair.” Grantaire breezed passed Enjolras and stood in the doorway. Surely enough the blond sighed, grabbed a chair and followed him into the street.

It was cold and windy and Enjolras was almost 100% sure that Joly would kill him when he found out. He sat hunched over on a wall, trying to shield himself from the wind, watching as Grantaire threw back his head and made his way through his first cigarette in over a week. “Joly’s going to kill me.” He sighed.  
“Probably.” Grantaire said through a puff of smoke and breath “Honestly, I expected more of a fight from you Apollo.”  
“I didn’t feel up to wresling a sick man.” Grantaire chuckled and then immediately began to cough, holding out the cigarette for Enjolras to take off him so he could double over and hack up a lung. Enjolras stared at the cigarette between his fingers and, assuming Grantaire was far too busy dying to take notice, popped it in his mouth. In hindsight the moan that he made as he inhaled was probably a bad idea as it definitely was louder than expected and definitely caught the attention of Grantaire who had now stopped coughing and was staring with a look of horror.   
“You smoke.” He said dumbly, a glassy empty look filling his eyes. “You smoke.”  
“No, I don’t!” He protested, unfortunately the smoke that escaped his mouth didn’t go in his favour. “I… ok I’m not getting out of this am I?”  
“I think I’m going to cry.” The look of pure defeat of Grantaire’s face as he stood up was almost too much to handle.  
“Really? You didn’t know?”  
“No! I thought you were the good one Enj!”   
“It’s not like I’m the only one who does it!”  
“I thought you knew I weren’t a good example. Jesus Christ you couldn’t have broke this to me gently? Sat me down with a mug of tea and been all ‘Grantaire there’s something you should know’” Grantaire’s blanket fell to the floor and the arm that he threw out in despair nearly hit a passerby who had stopped to watch the commotion.   
“We should go inside.” Enjolras said, picking up the blanket and trying to usher Grantaire back into the building. “People are starting to look.”   
“He LIED to me!” He screams over Enjolras’ shoulder to the few people that have congregate “He lied and he’s broken my heart.” and with his last exclamation dissolved into a fit of coughs.   
Enjolras rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I hate you at times.” He says as he pushes Grantaire through the apartment door. 

The pair make their way to the sofa they had previously occupied and Grantaire threw himself down dramatically. He had probably been spending too much time with Courfeyrac as melodramatics wasn’t sometime he did often. “I just can’t believe it.” he’s aware he’s repeating but Grantaire could only describe his emotion as similar to finding out that Santa isn’t real. To be more precise, like he’d been kicked in the face. He glances over to Enjolras who’s sat with the blanket pulled up to his chin. “When did it start? How long has this been going on for?”  
“My god Grantaire you sound like my mother when I came out.” The blond laughed   
“Answer me Enjolras!”  
“Jeez fine, it was the last year of college I was getting stressed out my anxiety was bad and I knew people that did it and I thought fuck it one won't kill me.” He’s shed the blanket and shuffled over “I was young and foolish so I decided I’d quit… don’t tell Combeferre about today.”  
“Wait does Combeferre know you smoke?”   
“Combeferre does smoke… do you know anything?”  
“APPARENTLY NOT.” Grantaire threw himself to the floor  
“Only 14 a month, there’s the campaign that every 15 gives you a mutation and well Combeferre developed this weird habit.”   
. “I don’t believe this. Does the entire Amis smoke?”  
The two sit in silence for a moment before shouting off names.   
“Jehan?” Enjolras asks  
“Only in winter months, it completes his aesthetic.” Grantaire sighs  
“Fuilley?”  
“Practically came out of the womb smoking.” Enjolras makes a choked noise as a part of his soul dies.  
“Courfeyrac?”  
“Only when drunk.”  
“Eponine?”  
“Like a 48 year old woman.”  
“Bahorel?”  
“Seriously Enjolras do you know anything?”  
“I seriously thought they’d be someone.” He sighs “I guess we all have a few vices…”  
“How deep plato but I don’t think Joly does.”  
“Joly! Dear Joly! We should get him a card.”   
“Ah yes ‘To Joly thank you for not smoking’ I think he’d like it don’t you?” Enjolras hits Grantaire on the arm lightly before pulling him back up onto the sofa. “Is there any other secrets to tell me Apollo or are all your dirty secrets exposed?”  
Enjolras smirks and leans forward to kiss him, knowing full well he was likely to get sick. “Well there’s our dirty little secret but I thought you wanted to keep that under wraps?”  
“Oh! Well I’m very much a fan to keep this a secret.” He leans backward into his boyfriend’s arms and cranes his neck backwards to kiss him. “Plus you can always make it up to me for smoking.”

A week later and the roles are reversed as Enjolras lies in the fetal position on his sofa. Grantaire walks through his apartment door with a shopping bag full of things to help nurse the god back to health. “Hey Grantaire!” Combeferre claps him on the back “Joly got you on Enjolras duty?”  
“Yeah he thinks that seeing as I’ve already had it I can handle him at his sickest.” Grantaire empties the contents of his bag onto the worktop and begins to put things away.  
“Can you two be alone without killing each other?”  
“We handled it fine when Grantaire was sick.” Enjolras called from the sofa   
“Yeah how do you think he got it?” Combeferre raised an eyebrow at Grantaire   
“You mean?...”  
“Yeah he stole my cigarette the filthy smoker!” Combeferre’s face falls with disappointment and when he comes home later that night he's brought back ‘How To Quit’ leaflets.


End file.
